


You Should Come

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nerdy Mycroft, Professor Lestrade, Punk Lestrade, Student Mycroft, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reverse of my story 'I want you to get me dirty'. Nerdy student Mycroft seduces everyone's favorite teacher. Porn to come (pun intended).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ethics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts), [Bilingual_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bilingual_Me/gifts).



The first day of ethics Mycroft got to class early. He sat in the front row so he would have the best view of the chalkboard. There was a handsome young man at the front talking with a pack of girls. They giggled and tittered and Mycroft rolled his eyes. The man didn't seem to be swayed by their theatrics, but was kind enough. When the girls finally left he crumpled into the seat at the front. 

"Teenage girls." He grumbled. 

"I would have thought you'd be flattered." Mycroft replied nervously, unused to handsome men talking to him freely. 

The man looked like he was going to say something before he shrugged and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The pair he was wearing were dark but well worn. Mycroft wondered if they were actually a much loved pair or if they had come off the rack like that. He also had on a Ramones t-shirt with a button up over it. The shirt hung open as he ran a hand through prematurely greying spiky hair. 

"They found out I sing for a band and have been trying to convince me that they like punk since last semester." The man said with a groan. 

"I happen to like punk myself." Mycroft replied, ready for the taunting that usually accompanied this comment from him. 

The man's eyes lit up instead and he opened the rucksack by his feet and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He laughed nervously and tried to get the wrinkles out, then passed it to Mycroft. 

"I've got a gig this weekend. You should come." He said with a warm smile. 

Mycroft was sure he'd turned beet red. He could feel the heat on his cheeks. Who was this mystery student? Why did he actually want to see Mycroft outside of school? Who was putting him up to this ruse? 

The man played with the piercing in his ear and stared at his Converse-clad feet. Mycroft was about to say something to him when three boys in rugby jackets came noisily through the door. Mycroft sunk into his seat and averted his eyes. 

"Mr Lestrade!" One boy exclaimed. "You'd better not make this boring!" 

The man at the front laughed and shook his head. "You'll have to have a better attitude than that of you want to pass my class, Rich. Just because you're the rugby captain doesn't mean I'm impressed." 

The boy gasped dramatically and held a hand to his chest. "You wound me, Prof." 

Mr Lestrade took a laptop out of his bag and laughed as more students began to filter into the lecture hall. Mycroft had to close his mouth when he found it hanging open. How could this handsome, young, rough around the edges man be his teacher? Surely there was some kind of mistake. 

It was then that his heart sank as he realised the man was probably just nice to him because he was his student. It made sense, no one was nice to Mycroft without wanting something. He tutored a few students here and there and people paid him for notes, but even his best friend was kind of a dick. He shouldn't have got all worked up over some handsome stranger. He knew better. 

\-----

It was just a shower, his normal evening shower. It wasn't as if anything had changed. He kept a tight schedule, masturbating every third day and never dallying whilst doing so. Today was not a masturbation day. 

He ignored the voice in his head that scolded him, the one that called this frivolous, and gripped his half hard prick. He tried to imagine Eden Hazard, sweat covered muscles and dripping kit, but all he could see was salt and pepper hair and a bright smile. 

He rubbed his thumb across the head of his prick, letting the precome slick it and moaned. He was quickly becoming fully hard and filling out the space against his palm. He stroked once and sighed, leaning against the wall and thrusting his hips so his cock pushed through the tight ring of his fist. 

He remembered what professor Lestrade had said to him after the first class and sped up his strokes. 'I like your mind.' Oh, Christ, did that feel good! 'I like your mind' morphed into 'I like your cock' and Mycroft threw his head back as he came all over the shower wall. Bloody hell. 

\-----

That weekend Mycroft stood in front of his full length mirror. He was in the third outfit he'd tried on that hour. Black jeans and a t-shirt. He felt stupid. He almost always wore bespoke trousers and button up shirts. He'd got the nickname grandpa his first year of college and he hated it. He'd stopped wearing waist coats then. 

He pulled the shirt over his head and slipped a white button up on, rolling up the sleeves and tucking it into the jeans. Next he pulled the jeans off and slipped into a pair of his favorite tailored trousers. These were a bit tighter than his school ones and made him feel daring. About as daring as a double science/government major could be. 

He put some product in his hair and pulled the flyer out of his bag. The band was playing at ten and it was only eight, but he thought he'd probably need a few drinks to be able to talk to the professor anyway, so he smoothed his hair down one more time and walked out to his car. 

He ran a rag over the vintage Porsche once before getting in. No reason to let her gather dust. His classmates were often surprised when they saw his car. They were under the impression that a 'nerd' couldn't have good taste. People were idiots, that's all he knew. 

He pulled her out onto the road and drove the twenty minutes to the pub. Once there he looked up and down the street before deciding to park a block away and walk. There were more than a few seedy characters around. 

He parked the car, walked to the pub and ordered a bourbon. When the barkeep chuckled and gave him a weird look he settled on whiskey. It was cheap and burned his throat, but by his second he was feeling quite relaxed. Just then a man in a leather motorcycle jacket took a seat next to him and ordered the same. 

"You came." professor Lestrade said from beside him. 

Mycroft flushed and choked on his drink before nodding. Mr Lestrade chuckled and took a sip of his own. 

"Most of the Ramones' songs are about 2 minutes long - partly because they didn't do guitar solos. In concert, when a song ended, they did a 1,2,3,4 count-in and went right into the next one.  
Joey Ramone died of lymphatic cancer in 2001. He was 49.  
They were one of the first successful and influential Punk Rock bands. They were regulars at the club CBGB's in New York City. CBGB stands for Country, Bluegrass, Blues.  
In 1979, they starred in the movie Rock And Roll High School. In the film, students try to get tickets to a Ramones show and end up taking over the school.  
Joey was an avid online stock trader in the late '90s. He was a big fan of cable network CNBC, and wrote a song named after his favorite anchor, Maria Bartiromo. There were plans to have him sing it on her show, but he never recovered from his cancer.  
In 2002, they became the first Punk band inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. Some Punk bands that were eligible that year but did not get in include The Clash and The Sex Pistols.  
When Joey Ramone died, the surviving members vowed to never perform together again." Mycroft blurted out. 

He almost hit himself in the face from embarrassment. He was a fucking idiot. He knew Mr Lestrade would be disgusted by him and-

"That's an impressive amount of knowledge. How do you remember all that?" Mr Lestrade said, beaming. 

"I, um, I have a photographic memory. I plan on running the country some day, so it will help." Mycroft replied. 

"You're rather cocky for an unassuming straight-A student. I have a feeling there's more to you than meets the eye, Mycroft Holmes." Lestrade said with a grin. 

"The same goes for you, professor. You'll be leaving the school next year to become a police officer. Does anyone else know?" Mycroft ventured. 

The professor shook his head as his mouth hung open. Mycroft took another sip of his drink and smiled gently at the professor. Lestrade smiled back and sipped his own. He wondered who the hell this student was.


	2. This Is How I Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised.......porn

It was after the fifth concert that Mycroft got up the nerve. He'd sat through three months of Mr Lestrade's class, pining away and not doing anything about it. He wanted so badly to touch the man he'd become close to over the spring months. He wanted to make him smile for reasons other than his brilliance and snarky humor. 

The band played their last song and Mycroft downed the rest of his beer, cheap and warm and wholly unsatisfying as it was, and stood. He walked out the back door and pulled his cigarettes out, tamping down the tobacco with a few flicks of the wrist and pulling a lone stick out. 

He heard the band finish the song and the small, but loyal, group of fans cheer loudly. He knew what would happen next, so he held the flame up to the end of the cigarette and waited for a count of five. As he inhaled, pulling the bluish flame across the paper, Mr Lestrade walked out the door. The lighter was dropped back into his pocket and Mycroft took the first real drag. 

"Christ I could use one." Mr Lestrade said with his usual post-concert casual air. 

Mycroft handed him the lit cigarette and blew the smoke out of the left side of his mouth. The slight hesitation and quirk of Mr Lestrade's lip before he took it told him everything he needed to know; tonight the man would break. 

Mycroft had waited after every concert and several nights where they just 'happened to be' seeing a band at the same locale. He had smoked a cigarette slowly in front of the ex smoker and waited for him to snap. He did now. 

"I'm starting to think you're a bad influence on me, Mycroft Holmes." Lestrade said with an easy grin. 

He stared at the cigarette for a small while like he was willing himself not to put it to his lips. When he finally did it was with a gentle shrug and a sudden moan. 

"Ah, Christ. That's bloody heaven." He said as his eyes slid closed. 

Mycroft took a step forward and wrapped his hand around Greg's to move the cigarette to his own lips. Greg's eyes shot open and focused on Mycroft's mouth with searing intensity. Mycroft let his lips drag against Greg's fingers as he drew the smoke into his lungs. When he let go of Mr Lestrade's hand it remained raised in front of his mouth. 

"I enjoyed your show tonight." Mycroft said as he blew the smoke out slowly. 

"You shouldn't do this." Mr Lestrade said, looking away and taking a drag. 

"Says who? The faculty board? The chancellor?" Mycroft asked, stepping closer in the dark alley. 

"I don't have relationships with students." Mr Lestrade replied wearily. 

"Mmm. And you don't smoke either. Funny how your inhibitions begin to fall around me." Mycroft shot back with a slight grin. 

"I should go." Mr Lestrade said. 

"Is it because I'm unassuming? Because I'm not considered the aggressive type? Because I'm awkward in social situations with other students? There has to be some reason for why you're weak around me." Mycroft probed. 

"I'm not weak." Mr Lestrade replied, pulling on the cigarette hard as if it would prove his point. 

"Yes. You are." Mycroft replied, grin only growing. "You LIKE me. That's why. You like to talk to me, like to spend time in my presence. That's the catalyst." 

Instead of disputing this known truth the professor looked away and bit his lip. 

"That little bit surprised me as much as you. You've always gone for the tough type. Rough and tumble. Someone who can take your breath away." Mycroft whispered, leaning in and sniffing at Mr Lestrade's sweaty neck. "Someone that makes you feel alive." 

"I should go help pack up." Mr Lestrade said, not moving to do so in the slightest. 

"You think I can't give that to you because I'm young and you suppose I'm innocent. You don't wish to...corrupt me." Mycroft hissed against Greg's skin. 

"This really is-"

"I think you've got it the wrong way round, SIR. The corruption will be mine. I've told you my plans before, of taking part in government, seeking the employ of the crown. Do you doubt me?" Mycroft asked. 

"No." Mr Lestrade replied in a hoarse whisper. 

"And so you must recognize my cunning, even if it is still being nurtured. I am cunning, Gregory. And that will be enough. Enough to turn you into what I want. You mistake physical strength and obvious social prowess for power. I've the kind of power you really want to control you. I don't need to press you roughly against this wall to make you sweat. I only have to speak. It's enough, isn't it?"

Mr Lestrade was breathing quickly with his eyes clenched closed. He nodded slightly, just once, before going completely still. 

"What was that, Gregory? I couldn't hear you. Is. It. Enough?" Mycroft spit. 

"Yes." Mr Lestrade whined. 

Mycroft took a quick step backwards and took the cigarette from Greg's hand. He flicked away the large amount of ash and took one more drag before tossing it to the pavement and grinding it out with the toe of his boot. He turned and started to leave the alley. 

"Come along, then." He hollered over his shoulder. 

\-----

When they made it back to Mycroft's car Greg felt a twinge of unease. He looked about, worried he might be seen driving off with a student. Mycroft opened the passenger side door for him and nodded pointedly for him to get in. He felt uncomfortable in the posh car, his own was a beat up sedan. 

Mycroft got in and turned the car on, stroking the dash as it purred to life. Greg watched his hand, wishing the long fingers on his skin. 

"My family is out of continent for the week. I think I'll bugger you in the library." Mycroft said as he drove away. 

"Why don't we just do it in your parents bed?" Mr Lestrade shot back, his discomfort with the sudden shift in power obvious. 

"If you like." Mycroft replied with a grin. 

The rest of the drive was made in silence, Greg tapping away anxiously on his mobile and running a hand thorough his hair over and over again. He finally stuck the mobile back in his pocket and sunk into his seat as they pulled up the drive. 

The house was monstrous. It loomed over the grounds almost hauntingly as Greg got from the car and followed Mycroft in. It was just as overwhelming on the inside, dark carpeting and ornate decor making him feel like he'd better take his shoes off before he scuff something. 

He followed Mycroft down the hall until they reached the library, doors wide open and huge fire roaring in the hearth. Greg swallowed and shook his head. 

"No. No. I want the nervous boy I know back. I don't want some MI5 lad who is going to take me apart. I want Mycroft Holmes, student and lonely know-it-all." Mr Lestrade said suddenly. 

Mycroft looked confused for a second. He'd thought the act was working. He'd got the professor this far, after all. 

"I want you, okay? I really just want you." Mr Lestrade added. 

Mycroft could feel his cheeks darken as he stared, not knowing what to do. 

"Take me to you room. Take me...take me to your bed." Mr Lestrade said, reaching out to squeeze Mycroft's hand. 

Mycroft, for his part, hadn't seen this coming. He nodded silently and walked up the stairs to his own room with his teacher behind him. He opened the door and suddenly felt stupid for bringing his teacher here. His room was sparse and neat. Boring. Much less enticing than the large library with the gothic decor. 

He was about to ask what Mr Lestrade wanted when the man turned him around and pressed their lips together. He felt heat bloom in his stomach as Mr Lestrade pushed him back to the bed and climbed atop him. The man tasted of cigarettes and whiskey and his hot tongue flicked into Mycroft's mouth and took his breath away. 

He broke their kiss when Greg rolled his hips, panting loudly and looking up with wide eyes. Greg smiled and ran his thumb across his cheek. Mycroft pulled his shirt off and lay back down nervously, waiting for the dismissal. He was pale and a bit chubby, obviously not what Mr Lestrade would want. 

"I think you're perfect...perfect just like this. Sod the false bravado." Greg said, bending down to kiss Mycroft's neck. 

"It's not...It's not false." Mycroft insisted without much conviction. 

"Are you a virgin?" Mr Lestrade asked. 

Mycroft let out a panicked huff and Mr Lestrade looked almost sad for a moment. 

"I fancy you, yeah? Can we just be together? Just the two of us without any pretense." Mr Lestrade said against Mycroft's neck. 

Mycroft nodded, unsure of his own voice at that point, and got a happy sound in response. His eyes fell closed as Mr Lestrade leaned back and started undoing his flies. He was slow about it, pulling the zip down and then removing Mycroft's trousers and pants without another word. Mycroft moved up the bed when prompted and lay there watching as Greg took off his ripped jeans and black briefs. He was already hard and leaking and Mycroft wanted so badly to see how much of his prick he could fit in his mouth. 

Greg pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor and then crawled back up to straddle Mycroft, letting their cocks drag together slowly. He bent down and sealed their lips together as he gripped both their cocks in a spit soaked hand and thrust once. 

Mycroft moaned loudly into Mr Lestrade's mouth and let his head fall back. Greg chuckled lightly and peppered his neck with kisses before starting to stroke. Mycroft's hips shot up as Greg held them tighter and spread the precome over the heads of their pricks with his thumb. 

They were soon breathing roughly against each others skin and Greg was pumping them hard as he started to curse. 

"Fuck! Bloody hell! I'm close! Fuck! Oh, God, I'm gonna paint that pretty chest of yours with my come! Oh, Jesus, gonna cover you in me!" Mr Lestrade mumbled as he thrust his hips. 

Mycroft was making whimpering noises he would usual be embarrassed by, but right then he couldn't pay enough attention to anything other than the heat in his prick long enough to be embarrassed. He knew he was getting close as he felt his bollocks pull up tightly. Soon he cried out and started to come. 

"Oh god, yes! That's bloody gorgeous! Come for me! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! I'm coming! I'm bloody coming! Oh, fuck!" Greg screamed as he did just that. 

Once he'd spent himself he collapsed on Mycroft's chest and was mumbling nonsense against his neck. All Mycroft could do was smile and close his eyes. His whole body felt like it was made of jelly and he was so perfectly calm. 

After a moment Greg kissed his neck gently and sat up. "I'm gonna get us a warm flannel. You stay there." 

Mycroft nodded and closed his eyes again, content to let Mr Lestrade clean them up. 

"This is how I like you." Greg said upon return. "Smiling because of me." 

Mycroft smiled wider and pulled him down into a tight hug. 

"This is how I like me, too." He whispered.


End file.
